The Distant Wound
The air in the Hall of Ascension was recycled to a sterile, antiseptic chill, scrubbed of all scent except the faint, metallic tang of ozone that clung to the synthetic drapes. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood before the polished chrome of the vanity, his hands steady as he fastened the final button of his dress uniform, the dark wool tailored to hide the topography of his body but unable to conceal...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima